


i know i can't express (this feeling of tenderness)

by lco123



Series: Isn't It Just So Pretty-verse [3]
Category: Teenage Bounty Hunters (TV)
Genre: 5+1 Things, F/F, Mostly Fluff, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-14
Updated: 2021-01-14
Packaged: 2021-03-18 07:27:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,884
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28739472
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lco123/pseuds/lco123
Summary: "Why can't people just tell the truth? Is that so hard?"Five times April doesn't tell Sterling the truth, and one time she does. Takes place over the summer they eventually get together.
Relationships: April Stevens/Sterling Wesley
Series: Isn't It Just So Pretty-verse [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2038650
Comments: 22
Kudos: 106





	i know i can't express (this feeling of tenderness)

**Author's Note:**

> I can't stop with this little universe, apparently!
> 
> If you need a visual for Priya, in my mind she's played by Sophia Ali.

**one**

The first person April texts after having sex for the first time is Sterling.

It’s not intentional, which is to say, she didn’t plan it. She didn’t plan any of this, really.

She and Sterling have already been texting back and forth over the past couple of days. They both fly back to Atlanta tomorrow and have been making loose plans to hang out, though Sterling has been getting increasingly specific with her ideas, so maybe the plans aren’t so loose, after all.

And yes, they’ve been texting for months now, ever since Sterling breathlessly confronted her at Christmas, but it’s something else to actually spend time together. There’s a whole summer stretched out in front of April, and for whatever reason (or maybe one particular reason) she hasn’t filled it with a million activities. Leaving her more or less open, at Sterling’s will.

It’s more terrifying than it should be, annoyingly so, which might be why, when April’s about-to-be-former roommate Priya nonchalantly asks if April wants to hook up tonight, April doesn’t immediately shut her down.

There’s been an edge between her and Priya this entire year, one that April initially mistook for competition before realizing, belatedly, that it was likely sexual tension. Priya’s out in a casual, confident way that seemed utterly bizarre to April at first. Priya is smart and driven, but she doesn’t seem to feel the need to prove herself. She’s a total smartass, but April kind of likes that about her.

Priya’s made it clear that she’s game if April ever wants to hookup. And April might be a love-slash-touch-starved lesbian, but she’s also not an idiot; she wasn’t about to start a sexual relationship with someone she’d be sharing a tiny concrete room with for months on end.

But now the summer is here, and she and Priya won’t be living together, and they’re not close enough friends for a one-night stand to ruin anything for next year. (April only got comfortable enough at Princeton to start attempting friendships about a month ago.)

This is not at all how April imagined her first time would go, but, well. She’s tense and horny and Priya is looking at her with that smirky little half-smile that’s been driving April wild all school year. And they might not be best friends, but April knows Priya well enough to trust her, as much as she can trust anyone she’s known for less than a year.

(Is there maybe a part of her that wants to have some experience before seeing Sterling, just in case?

No, April decides firmly when the thought briefly crosses her mind. Absolutely not.)

The sex is a little clumsy (on April’s part, mostly), but Priya is patient and surprisingly sweet and quick to laugh, not in a way that feels mocking but in a way that actually helps April feel more comfortable.

Afterward, April stares up at the ceiling, mind racing.

“You okay?” Priya asks.

April nods. “Just, um.”

“Need a minute?”

“Yeah,” April replies, realizing how true it is. “Guess so.”

Priya swans up from the bed, utterly unfazed to be completely naked, and starts rummaging in her dresser. “How about I go for a run? Give your repressed ass some time to ruminate on the five mind-blowing orgasms I just gave you.”

April sits up in bed, pulling the sheet tighter around her. “Hey, I gave you at least four!”

Priya’s mouth drops open as she tugs on a sports bra. “I was just guessing. You actually counted?”

April blushes, because of course she counted, and Priya is still laughing by the time she leaves their room.

April takes a few grounding breaths, trying to settle her racing pulse, trying to internalize the fact that _she just had sex for the first time. With a girl. And it was good!_ before her phone buzzes once. Grateful for the distraction, April checks it, seeing a message from Sterling.

April can’t help but smile at the message. It’s a picture of Sterling standing in her nearly empty dorm, pouting at the screen. Underneath the picture Sterling’s written: **_end of an era. a short era, but still. feelin nostalgic_** ****

Sterling looks cute, is April’s first thought. And her second is a peculiar resonance with Sterling’s statement. April glances around her own dorm room, aware of how the packed-up nature of this space mirrors the one in Sterling’s picture. April already knows that she’ll be in an off-campus apartment next year, so this is truly the end of her dorm-living experience.

A sudden wave of something—maybe it’s nostalgia—hits her, the understanding that she’s never been older than she is in this moment. That she is, bizarrely, a _grown-up._

It’s all April wanted for so many years, yet now she longs for the simplicity of a different time. Not even a time that necessarily existed, since her life has never been particularly simple. But maybe for a parallel universe, one where she had the ability to make different choices. One where she could possibly be in the same picture as Sterling, instead of on the opposite side of the country as her.

April shakes her head, opting to text Sterling back rather than spiral further. She’s only going to type out a quick note of agreement, but apparently her fingers have other ideas, because instead she ends up writing: **_I just had sex._** ****

April is halfway through admonishing herself for sending that message when her phone starts to buzz. It’s Sterling, of course, and April understands her well enough to know that ignoring the call will only make things worse.

“Hey,” she greets, noticing with a grimace that her voice sounds raspy.

“Are you okay?” Sterling asks immediately, almost out of breath. “I mean, was it—good?”

“Um.”

“You don’t have to tell me. I mean, like, you definitely _can_ , if you want to. But there’s no pressure. I just—this is amazing! Congratulations! I’m really, really proud of you. I know that’s kind of weird to say, but it’s true. You had sex, April! That’s awesome! Well, hopefully it was, I mean first times can be kind of—”

“Sterling,” April cuts in with a small laugh. “Breathe.”

“Right,” Sterling exhales. “Sorry. I’ll let you talk.”

April swallows, realizing that now she actually has to say something. She and Sterling are friends now, and friends talk about these things. But her brain just can’t seem to get it together.

God, why couldn’t she have texted Ezequiel instead?

“April?” Sterling prompts.

“It was good,” April says quietly. “A little strange, a little awkward, but good.”

“Oh. That’s—that’s so great.” Sterling’s voice is softer now, the manic energy from before seeming muted, all of a sudden. “I really am happy for you.”

“Thank you.”

“Can I ask…um…who?”

“My roommate,” April answers, figuring there’s no reason to play coy.

“That girl Priya? I thought you hated her.”

April chuckles a little, rubbing the back of her neck. “Yeah, turns out…”

“Right.” And if Sterling is thinking that this is becoming a pattern with April, she’s good enough not to mention it. “I know you, like, had plans about all of this. Are you happy with how it happened?”

April frowns a little at that comment, wonders if Sterling is referring to her purity ring or that night in the back of the Volt, April’s admission of wanting to ravage Sterling followed by her pronouncement of wanting somewhere for them to go. How naive she was, back then, to presume they had a future.

How naive she _is_ , she realizes, to still yearn for one.

 _No,_ April thinks in response to Sterling’s question. _I’m not happy with how it happened. I’m not sad, either, because it was good, and I don’t regret it. But it should have been you._

_I thought of you when she touched me._

_I wanted it to be you._

“Yes,” April lies. “Very happy.”

And she quickly lets Sterling change the subject.

**two**

“What’s wrong with you?” April asks.

“Hmm?” Sterling replies, glancing up from the bottle of iced tea that she’s currently peeling the label off of.

“You’re acting weird.”

“I am?”

April nods. “You’re treating that poor label like it personally offended you. Plus you invited me here, but you’ve barely said a word. Which is _not_ typical for Sterling Wesley, rambler extraordinaire.” She means the remark as a joke, but Sterling barely cracks a smile.

April’s heart starts to race. They’ve been hanging out for nearly an hour, at a café near Sterling’s house and now at a park, and Sterling’s been unusually quiet, to be sure. April figured it was exhaustion; Sterling’s family has been all over her since she arrived back in Atlanta last week.

But now April starts to wonder if it’s something more serious. Sterling almost always laughs at April’s stupid half-jokes, unless they’re truly cruel. But in this moment, Sterling’s posture is hunched on the park bench, and the tea label is now fully off the bottle.

She’s nervous, April realizes. Nervous like she has something to tell April, something to confess.

April mentally files through the possibilities, though when Sterling’s last big secret involved April’s father and bounty hunting, said possibilities are a little hard to pin down.

“Sterl,” April says more gently. “What’s going on?”

Sterling bites her lip (which April actively does not feel a tingle at the sight of, if anyone were to ask) before looking up at April. “I sort of…broke up with someone.”

April frowns. “What?”

“Over the phone. A couple days ago.”

“You…I thought you weren’t dating anybody.” April hates the hint of betrayal she can hear in her voice, because Sterling owes her nothing, really.

Sterling sets the tea bottle down on the bench beside her and shifts a bit. “I was. For, like, two months.”

“Two _months_?”

Sterling nods, looking guilty, and April focuses on neutralizing her own expression as Sterling says, “I just—I didn’t know if we were talking about this kind of thing, but then you told me about—well, yeah. So, anyway. That’s why I’m acting weird.”

The admission is kind of a punch in the gut; a swift reminder of how easy it seemingly is for Sterling to keep important information from her, and also of the fact that Sterling will always have someone else to talk to in the form of a sister, which is a level of closeness that April still has trouble wrapping her head around.

But April is really trying at this whole fresh-start-and-friendship thing, so she swallows her pride and asks, “Are you okay?”

Sterling shrugs. “Maybe? I mean, I’m not shattered, or anything. Not like—” She cuts herself off quickly, but April still manages to fill in the blanks, the night of the lock-in rushing back in full detail.

“She was really sweet,” Sterling continues. “But ultimately just…not who I wanted.”

“I’m sorry,” April offers, because that’s a thing people say.

Sterling’s forehead creases slightly. “Is it alright that I brought this up?”

“Of course,” April answers tightly. “Why wouldn’t it be?”

“April.”

Sterling is gazing down at her with those big, beautiful eyes, and her voice is so soft saying April’s name, and April doesn’t trust herself not to get lulled into a conversation she’s in no way prepared for.

“Thank you for telling me,” April says, too loudly. “I’m sure she didn’t deserve you, anyway.” And it’s not everything she wants to say, not even close, but it’s at least a piece of the truth.

Sterling looks a little more pleased but still concerned. “Sure we’re okay?”

“Absolutely. We’re friends, right? And friends talk about...relationships.”

“Right,” Sterling replies, and April tries not to notice that the affection in her eyes has been replaced with disappointment.

**three**

April comes down with a bad cold the second week of July.

It’s annoying, and bizarre, because April never gets sick, and it’s not even cold and flu season.

“Maybe this is your body’s way of telling you to slow down,” Sterling muses one day after noticing April’s sniffles.

“The only thing keeping me busy is you,” April points out, delighting in the soft blush that blooms over Sterling’s face. “Are you suggesting we should stop hanging out?”

“No!” Sterling says immediately.

April bites the inside of her cheek to keep from grinning. “Alright, then. Anyway, I’m fine. I’m sure I just need a good night’s sleep.”

But a few days later she feels even worse. So bad, in fact, that she cancels her and Sterling’s planned outing to a trivia night at an all-ages club.

She tells this to Sterling over text, but of course Sterling immediately calls April, asking what she needs.

“I don’t need anything,” April insists, even as she realizes that the house is mostly out of fresh food. Her mom, of course, is off on another cruise, so April’s been in charge of keeping the fridge stocked since she got home.

“I’m coming over,” Sterling replies. “Send me a list.”

“You really don’t need to. I’m probably contagious.” April hears the lack of fight in her own voice. Her head is starting to pound, and as pathetic as it feels, the idea of someone taking care of her sounds comforting.

“I’ll double-up on zinc. Don’t waste energy arguing with me.”

So April doesn’t, and Sterling arrives an hour later with two full bags of groceries. She makes herself at home in the kitchen, while April drowsily observes her from a kitchen bar stool.

“I thought about making you soup from scratch, but then I realized, let’s be real, that would be a disaster. So I got the most fancy-looking chicken soup at the store, and my mom suggested I throw in some fresh herbs to make it taste better, which, hello: life hack! Plus crackers, and chocolate-covered pretzels, even though sugar is bad for colds, because I know they’re your comfort food, and what’s that saying? Starve a fever, feed a cold?” She says all of this while bustling around the kitchen, already pouring soup into a pot and sampling a few of the pretzels.

April is endeared, it’s hard not to be, but she’s also overwhelmed by Sterling’s high energy after a few days of near silence. Plus, the volume of Sterling’s excitement isn’t exactly helping her headache.

“Sterling,” she whispers, blinking sleepily, and she doesn’t need to say more. Sterling gets it, somehow, waving April off to the couch with a promise to get her when the food is ready.

April wraps herself in a blanket, nuzzling into the arm of the couch, and she doesn’t intend to drift off but the next thing she knows cool fingertips are pressed against her forehead. “Mmm,” she groans without opening her eyes. She can’t help it; she’s sick and needy and it’s been too long since anyone touched her anywhere.

Much less _Sterling_.

“Sorry,” Sterling murmurs. “Didn’t mean to wake you. Just wanted to make sure you didn’t have a temperature.”

“And?” April replies, finally opening her eyes. Her breath, which hasn’t exactly been moving smoothly anyway, catches even more at the sight of Sterling sitting on the coffee table, looking at her with so much tenderness.

“You’re not hot,” Sterling declares, and April may not be at full capacity, but she still has the good sense to make an overly offended face at that remark. Sterling rolls her eyes. “Oh, you know what I mean. You’re not feverish.”

“So I am still hot?” And yes, it’s ridiculous that April’s choosing to focus on teasing Sterling rather than the good news that she doesn’t have a fever, but it's hard to resist.

“You don’t need the ego boost,” Sterling replies, which definitely isn’t a no.

Sterling manages to coax April into eating half a bowl of soup (Mrs. Wesley was right: the fresh herbs do make a difference) and a few pretzels before April retires back to the couch, Sergeant Bilko happily making a nest in her lap.

“Wanna watch some TV?” Sterling suggests.

“You don’t have to stay,” April says, even though she wants Sterling to stay more than anything. “You’ve stocked me up on everything I could need.”

“Oh no, I’m not leaving you. What if you get worse in the night?”

“You’re—you’re spending the night?”

Sterling blinks back at her. “If you’ll have me.”

And _God_ , would April ever have her.

But instead of saying that April clears her throat, or as close as she can when her throat feels like it’s on fire, and says, “That’s very kind. The guest bedroom’s already made up.”

Sterling’s smile is almost shy, like she thought April might reject her offer, but she merely nods before turning on the TV. Old reruns of _Friends_ play while April drifts in and out of sleep, Sterling’s occasional bursts of laughter jolting her from hazy half-dreams.

When April wakes up for good, it’s dark outside and Sterling’s turned the TV off. “We should get you to bed,” Sterling says.

April nods, too tired and dreadful-feeling to argue or provide a snappy comeback. She lazily plods upstairs, Sterling following behind. They get ready in the bathroom together in comfortable silence (Sterling initially told April to take the night off from her intricate skincare routine, to which April replied that she didn’t need to wake up with a cold _and_ bad skin).

Sterling insists on tucking April in, and April assumes she’ll sink right toward sleep, but no sooner has Sterling pulled the quilt over her than April grows restless. She starts shifting immediately, her muscles feeling tight and achy from the illness and lack of use.

“You look like you have ants in your pants,” Sterling observes, hovering near the doorway. “What’s up?”

“Nothing,” April replies. “Just a little uncomfy.”

“The NyQuil offer still stands…”

“I already told you: NyQuil is for the weak.”

Sterling takes a few steps back toward the bed. “I could give you a massage?”

And dammit if April doesn’t nearly have a heart attack at that suggestion.

“Or not!” Sterling continues, a bit nervously. “Sorry, that might be a weird idea. But, um, I used to massage Blair’s shoulders sometimes after lacrosse, and she says I’m really good at it.”

It’s probably a terrible idea, for multiple reasons. But April is sore and tired and Sterling is _offering_ , so openly, so sweetly. And so she nods.

Sterling grins. “Cool. Where does it hurt?”

April shifts. “Um, my shoulders. And my low back, kinda. I think it’s from sitting up so much.”

“Get on your stomach,” Sterling declares, and even though April feels like shit, Sterling telling her what to do with her body (on April’s bed, no less) with such authority makes her heart start beating faster.

 _Get a grip_ , she thinks to herself as she flips onto her stomach, cradling a pillow under her head, but that reminder is no match for the shock of feeling Sterling’s knees bracket her hips.

_Sterling is straddling her._

Well, not totally; she hasn’t let her weight drop. But it’s still a lot.

“Um,” April mumbles into the pillow. “Please tell me you didn’t straddle Blair.”

“No!” Sterling laughs, then, maybe sensing April’s internal freakout, quickly explains, “This way I can use both hands without my arms getting too tired. But I don’t have to do it this way, if it makes you uncomfortable…”

“No,” April replies, too quickly. “I’m perfectly comfortable. You don’t have to hold yourself up, though.”

“Oh, I don’t want to—”

“We don’t both need muscle tension.”

So Sterling relaxes her weight against April’s low back, but that makes April wince because, _oh right_ , that’s where the pain is, so Sterling scoots back with a soft, “Sorry,” until she’s basically sitting on April’s ass.

And this is most definitely a terrible idea, but also kind of a great one, because they’re both just wearing leggings so April can, like, _feel_ Sterling against her, the warmth of her, and Sterling actually lets out a little gasp as she shifts into position, like feeling April pressed up against her like this is driving her as wild as it’s driving April.

And Sterling hasn’t even touched her yet.

April has to bite back a moan when Sterling’s hands settle on her shoulders. Sterling thankfully doesn’t suggest that April remove any clothing—that scenario would be far too pornographic, and if anything remotely sexual is going to happen between them April certainly doesn't want it to begin at a time when she’s forced to mouth-breathe due to extreme congestion—but that doesn’t matter; Sterling’s hands are simultaneously strong and gentle as she kneads the tight muscles of April’s shoulders, working her way from the tops of them down between April’s shoulder blades to her mid-back.

“Pressure okay?” Sterling asks.

“Yes,” April replies, because she can’t trust any other words to come out right now.

Sterling works the same spot a few times, eventually sliding her hands back up toward April’s neck and working out some of the kinks there. She has to push some of April’s hair out of the way to access that spot, and April sinks her teeth into her bottom lip as she feels a slight tug on her scalp. Her brain flashes with the image of Sterling pulling her hair in a very different context, and she shivers a little.

“Cold?” Sterling questions.

“No. Sorry.”

“How is your hair so smooth?”

“Superior genetics, I guess.” And they both giggle at that. April won’t pretend that she feels great, or even good, but man, if having Sterling Wesley perched on her ass, massaging April’s body and complimenting her hair doesn’t improve the situation.

When Sterling’s hands finally drift lower, to focus on April’s low back, Sterling is forced to shift her hips down again. April tries to help, but the backs of her thighs end up colliding a bit forcefully with Sterling’s crotch, and Sterling lets out an honest-to-God hiss.

“Ah, I’m sorry,” April quickly apologizes, mortified. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

Sterling finds her new position before saying quietly, “It didn’t, uh, hurt.”

April’s body floods with warmth. The good kind, not the feverish kind. “Oh.”

Sterling gets to work on April’s back, fingers pressing firmly into the aching muscles there. And maybe April flexes her thighs up against Sterling once or twice more, straining to hear the way Sterling’s breath starts to come a little faster, but she’s half-delirious with exhaustion and sickness and want. It’s all absolutely worth it for the way Sterling grinds down just a little against her, hips moving in almost imperceptibly small circles.

April actually wonders if Sterling might just get herself off against April’s thighs (wonders what it would be like if she was brave enough and smooth enough to tell Sterling to do so) when Sterling says loudly, “Okay! I think you’re probably good, right?”

Sterling scrambles off of her, and April bites back a whine at the sudden lack of warmth.

“Ineedtogotothebathroom,” Sterling announces, all one word, before April’s even had the chance to flip over.

April stares up at the ceiling, trying not to think about how Sterling is probably touching herself in the bathroom just a few feet away, about how quickly she’ll come and the likelihood that she’ll murmur April’s name when she does.

“G’night!” Sterling calls through the door a few short minutes later. “Lemme know if you need anything!”

 _I need you to come in here and finish what you started_ , April thinks but doesn’t say. _There’s one way you can get me to relax and we both know what it is._

But instead she calls back, “Will do!” and rolls over. She’s so turned on but too tired to come by her own hand, so she shuts her eyes tightly, and tries in vain to find sleep.

**four**

April knows that she and Sterling have both been avoiding the topic of her dad. It’s easy enough, when he’s back in jail and April’s mom is always gone and there are so many nicer things to focus on in the here and now. April would much rather spend her time cultivating her friendship with Sterling than rehashing the past.

But one day Sterling sits April down on the Wesley couch and says very seriously, “We need to talk about your dad.”

April blanches. “Excuse me?”

Sterling nervously knits her fingers together as she sits down beside April. “I think it’s the only way to truly move on. We can’t pretend like it didn’t happen. At least according to my therapist.” She offers April a small smile. “I’ve been talking about us in therapy.”

“Us meaning you and my dad?”

Sterling rolls her eyes. “Us meaning you and me. Duh.”

April folds her arms, deciding to push past the way that casual reveal makes her stomach clench. “You’re not the only one in therapy, Sterling. I’ve done a lot of processing about a whole laundry list of things. And if you hadn’t noticed, I forgave you a long time ago.”

“Did you, though? Or are you, like, doing the thing where you pretend to forget so you don’t have to deal with forgiving?”

“Now you’re just quoting your therapist, aren’t you?”

Sterling leans forward on the couch, eyes wide. “I’m serious, April. I want us to be able to talk about this.”

April feels herself stiffen at the suggestion. She has been working on herself in therapy, genuinely, but still the idea of talking things out—especially talking out such a painful topic as this one—makes her want to recoil.

But whatever she has with Sterling is worth fighting for, she knows, and she’s not going to let her dad screw it up for the second (or maybe third) time.

So April slowly breathes through her nose and asks, “What do you want to discuss?”

Sterling’s lips part slightly, like she wasn’t expecting it to be that easy, before she says, “I guess I want to know if you trust me.”

“I trust you,” April says immediately. _Just not myself around you_ , she mentally tacks on. “I understand now why you did what you did.”

“I hurt you.”

“Yes,” April acknowledges. “You did. But you were in an unenviable situation. One that you never planned for.”

Sterling’s eyebrows crinkle. “Why are you so willing to…?”

“What?”

“You’re, like, the queen of holding grudges. You could’ve held this against me for life.”

 _No, I couldn’t have,_ April thinks. _Because despite trying to do so for years, I couldn’t shut down how I feel about you. I could never make myself truly hate you as much as I wanted to._

“Like I said,” April says instead. “I understand.”

Sterling’s gaze is suspicious. “You’re being freakishly calm about all of this.”

And the reason for that, April knows, is because if she lets herself feel the depths of all of it—the grief over her father, the intensity of her feelings for Sterling, the anger that life can be so utterly hard and complicated—she might never recover. Someday, maybe, she’ll be able to fully fall apart, but not today.

“I’d say I’m being measured.”

“Well, I’m sorry,” Sterling says. “And we can talk about it more, whenever you want to.”

“I’m good. Really,” April lies, and she knows that Sterling doesn’t buy it, but Sterling doesn’t bring up John Stevens for the rest of the day.

**five**

Toward the end of the summer, Sterling is whisked away on her family’s annual hunting trip. It’s a three-day affair, which for April means three days without Sterling, which in normal times is nothing but has come to be something of an anomaly these past couple months.

April tries not to pout, because she’s an adult woman who can handle a few days without her friend-slash-crush(-slash-that-doesn’t-even-begin-to-cover-it), but the idea of spending time in her big empty house without Sterling makes her stomach hurt. In a matter of weeks, Sterling’s made the house feel more like a home than it ever did April’s entire childhood.

“I could come up with an excuse to stay,” Sterling offers weakly as she packs her bag. April is seated on Sterling’s bed, occasionally offering a piece of admittedly unsolicited advice about how Sterling can more efficiently arrange her clothes.

“There’s absolutely no need for that,” April replies, even though the idea of Sterling changing her plans for her makes her pulse race. “You should really roll your shirts.”

Sterling frowns and rolls the shirt in question, but her work is sloppy and imprecise, so April scoots forward on the bed, tugging the shirt from Sterling’s hand and showing her how to roll it into a perfect cylinder.

Sterling shakes her head at the sight. “How are you so good at everything?”

“It’s unfair to all other humans, I know. I almost feel bad for everyone who isn’t me.”

“No, you don’t.”

April grins. “No, I don’t.”

Sterling sinks down onto the bed next to April. “I don’t wanna _go_ ,” she whines.

“Oh, c’mon, you’ll have a good time.”

“I’d have a better time here with you.”

April gulps, attempts to regulate her breathing. Sterling’s body seems _really close_ to hers, all of a sudden. “Well, that’s obvious,” she replies. “Because as previously established, I’m good at everything.”

And she really doesn’t mean it suggestively—she’s honestly trying to lighten the mood—but Sterling’s mouth parts slightly and she whispers, “Everything, huh?” and April is suddenly quite aware of what _everything_ could encompass.Of the _everything_ she’d very much like to experience with Sterling right here on this bed.

But that’s decidedly not a good idea, not when Sterling is leaving in less than twelve hours and the entire Wesley family is downstairs gathering hunting supplies. A well-armed Blair could burst in at any minute.

“Ezequiel,” April manages to get out.

Sterling blinks slowly. “What?”

April clears her throat. “He and I have plans.” A total lie, but a believable enough one. “Since I’ve been, um. Rather busy.”

Sterling blushes, warm and lovely, like she always does whenever April references how much time they’ve been spending together. “Oh.” She nods, a small smile slipping over her face. “Well, good. I’m glad you won’t be alone.”

It’s the kind of comment that a year or two ago might have stung, might have made April’s blood boil at the implication of pity, but now April knows that Sterling is being genuinely caring.

April leaves not long after, and when she gets home she actually does text Ezequiel, figuring she might as well turn her lie into the truth.

They meet up the next day at a coffee shop near Ezequiel’s house, and April insists on paying for their drinks, partially out of guilt that she’s essentially ghosted him all summer in favor of hanging out with Sterling.

“I wasn’t sure if you’d ever resurface,” Ezequiel remarks once they’re sitting at a table.

“What do you mean?”

“From the great Wesley vortex,” Ezequiel replies with a grin. “What’s going on there, girl?”

April’s jaw tightens. “We’re friends.”

Ezequiel laughs. “No, _we’re_ friends.” He gestures between the two of them. “And you know why that works?”

April has a good feeling of what’s coming, but thinks she maybe still has a chance to shut it down. “Because you normally know when to keep your mouth shut, this conversation notwithstanding?”

“Because we don’t want to fuck each other.”

April’s eyes widen. Ezequiel’s never spoken to her so boldly, not in nearly a decade of friendship. “That is—” she sputters.

“You’re really going to sit here and deny it?” he interjects, entirely confident.

“You’re really making me regret buying you that coffee.” But already the knot that’s been in her stomach ever since Sterling left is starting to loosen. April hates being called out, hates being _known_ in this way, without her consent. But Ezequiel is offering her an opportunity, an opening to discuss the thing that’s been occupying most of her headspace for this entire summer.

“Fine,” April says through nearly-gritted teeth. “Something is going on, I’m just not sure what.” She raises an eyebrow at him. “Are you satisfied?”

His grin is softer now, more genuine. “Very. Now let’s figure out how you’re gonna make your move.”

**+one**

“I really haven’t taken advantage of this situation enough,” Sterling declares as she backstrokes across the Stevens pool.

April, who is sitting on the edge of the pool and still trying to calm the eff down at the sight of Sterling in a bikini, asks, “And what situation would that be?”

“The fact that you have a pool. I feel like I’ve wasted the summer by not hanging out in here, like, all the time.” Sterling glides to a stop and stands up in the pool.

“Oh good, glad to know that a summer spent hanging out with me rather than using me for my pool was a waste.”

Sterling scowls, splashing some water at April until April yelps, “Hey, that’s cold!”

“Well, it wouldn’t be if you’d just get in here, already,” Sterling points out.

April crosses one leg over the other, noticing how that action draws Sterling’s gaze to her thighs. “I’m working up to it.”

Sterling bounces a little in the water. “Don’t wait too long! Pretty sure your apartment at Princeton won’t have a pool like this.”

And that stark reminder—that April is leaving in a week, that she and Sterling will be away from each other for God knows how long—is enough to persuade April to heft herself off the edge of the pool and into the water.

Sterling squeals in delight while April takes a few minutes to acclimate herself. She swims a couple of quick laps down and back, just to warm up, before joining Sterling in the shallow end.

Sterling is regarding her strangely, and April is sure she looks a mess, hair plastered against the side of her face. “What?” she asks self-consciously, chest heaving a bit.

Sterling reaches forward, gliding a patch of slick hair behind April’s ear, then letting her wet hand linger there against the side of April’s neck. April knows her pulse is racing beneath Sterling’s touch, thinks about how easy it would be to finally close the distance between them.

“Wanna race?” she offers, and Sterling’s hand drops, but she doesn’t look disappointed.

“You’ll win.”

“Maybe not. You’re taller than me.”

Sterling rolls her eyes. “Yeah, but you’re better at, like, everything.”

April pokes her tongue between her teeth. “That’s true. Ready?”

April wins the race, because of course she does, though Sterling loudly protests that they didn’t establish the rules about pushing off from the side of the pool.

April grins, spinning in the water, celebrating her victory. “No one likes a sore loser, Sterl.”

“Says the queen of sore losers,” Sterling teases, but she’s grinning back.

“I thought I was the queen of holding grudges?”

“You can have multiple kingdoms.”

April laughs. She can’t help it. It’s the end of summer and Sterling is here with her on a warm night, paddling around in April’s pool like they’re kids again, like there hasn’t ever been a single lie or betrayal or misunderstanding between them.

“Okay, now I’m cold,” Sterling admits.

April nods. “C’mon. We can wrap up and turn on the heat lamps.”

Sterling strides out of the pool, a vision in her teal bikini, and April knows that she’s staring but it’s sort of impossible not to. Sterling is so stunning, blonde hair dripping all over the place, soft curves of her body right there on display, the blue lights of the pool giving her an almost etherial glow.

April would feel bad ogling her friend, but she’s ninety-percent sure that Sterling wants her to stare; Sterling is definitely moving with more purpose, as though she knows she’s being watched and likes it.

“Did you ever imagine this is how you’d spend your summer?” Sterling muses a few minutes later, once they’re both wrapped in plush towels and April’s turned on the heat lamps. There are a half dozen lounge chairs around the pool, but Sterling insisted they share one, allegedly to keep warm. The chair is wide enough that they can lie side-by-side, but they’re practically touching.

“No,” April replies, honestly. “But I’m glad it happened this way.”

Sterling smiles at her. “Yeah, me too.” She stretches her legs out before sliding one of her feet between April’s. “This okay?” she asks a bit shyly. “My feet are cold.”

April nods slowly, feeling her face start to flush. “It’s okay. I can get you another towel, if you want…?”

“No. Stay.”

So April obliges, rubbing the bottom of one foot against the top of Sterling’s, then letting her foot travel a little further, toes running along the back of Sterling’s calf.

Sterling lets out a sigh that almost sounds like a whimper, belatedly clamping her mouth shut like she hadn’t intended for the sound to escape. April bites her lip, a little too pleased with herself, as she slowly and deliberately drags her toes back down Sterling’s leg, letting their feet tangle once more.

Sterling gazes at her through wet eyelashes. “You go back to school next week,” she whispers, which is not at all what April expected her to say.

“Yeah,” April says simply. “And you go back the week after.”

“Stanford to Princeton. Just a breezy forty-three hour drive.” Sterling’s trying to keep her tone light, but April can hear the sadness underneath, and April’s heart aches a little.

“FaceTime,” April points out, because she doesn’t want Sterling to cry. “Phone calls. Texting. This is why technology was invented.”

Sterling sits up straighter. “So…you want this to continue? Like, this wasn’t just a summer thing?”

“Not for me,” April confesses, as open as she’s been all summer.

Sterling’s face flashes with relief. “Good. Not for me either.”

Their feet are still touching, and Sterling’s towel is slipping off her shoulder, and April suddenly feels so warm, not just from the heat lamps. Sterling _wants_ her, April can tell, but she’s holding back, giving April permission to lead them there this time.

Sterling was so brave that day in Ellen’s office. Reckless, yes, but brave. For the past couple of years April’s admired that bravery, wished a little of it could rub off on her.

And now, sitting in her backyard, the moon glowing encouragingly overhead, April finds some of that bravery within herself.

She cups Sterling’s cheek, gliding her thumb along Sterling’s maxilla like she did in the arcade all that time ago, and Sterling stares at her hopefully as April finally leans forward and kisses her.

“Thank God,” Sterling sighs against her lips before deepening the kiss, pushing the towel off of April’s shoulders to grip the back of her damp one-piece. Their bodies knock together a little haphazardly, the surge of desire overtaking them both, until April manages to roll them just enough so that she’s straddling Sterling’s hips.

Sterling pulls back for just a second, eyes wide. “This okay?” April asks, and Sterling nods fervently, fisting a hand in April’s hair and pulling April back against her, tongue slipping inside April’s mouth.

April hears herself moan and feels Sterling’s other hand tighten on her hip. She rocks down against Sterling and Sterling’s hips jump up to meet hers.

“April,” Sterling gasps when April starts peppering kisses along her jaw, her neck, the tops of her shoulders. Sterling smells like chlorine and sunscreen but also herself, that intoxicating scent that hasn’t left April’s senses since she was sixteen.

“April,” Sterling repeats. “God, I want you.”

“I want you, too,” April admits, swallowing hard, pulling back just enough to look Sterling in the eyes. “I’ve—I’ve thought about this so many times.”

“Me too,” Sterling breathes, hands coming to settle around April’s waist. “Do you have any idea how many times I’ve thought about you while masturbating?”

April’s pretty sure her brain short-circuits at that reveal, and Sterling winces slightly. “Too much?”

“No,” April says immediately. “Not at all.”

“Okay, then. Remind me to tell you the story of my first orgasm, later.”

April raises an eyebrow. “What’s that now?”

“Later,” Sterling repeats. She rolls her lips together. “Is the whole, uh, _ravaging_ thing still on the table?”

“You remember that?”

“Remember that?” Sterling echoes, incredulous. “I’m pretty sure that comment informed, like, at least fifty percent of my sexual identity.”

April doesn’t even try to tamp down the flare of pride that she feels at that remark. Her feet find the cement and she rises to stand. Sterling pouts for a second before April offers her a hand, pulling Sterling up to stand beside her.

“Inside,” April declares. “I’m not going to ravage you on a lounge chair when we have the option of an actual bed.”

Sterling grins, holding April’s hand tightly, gorgeously unkempt from both the swimming and the making out. April can’t believe she got so lucky.

“So, you want to?” Sterling asks, and April has to laugh at the ridiculousness of the question, since obviously she does, but she decides to still offer Sterling a genuine answer, because she finally can:

“Honestly, Sterl? Nothing would make me happier.”


End file.
